


aftermath

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Citadel DLC, Gen, Space Divas, minor Shakarian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, liquoring up two space divas with vendettas was not the wisest decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> You can't tell me that Miranda and Shepard didn't get in at least a little trouble during their space diva night out.

The lights were too bright.

Shepard blinked and put her hand over her eyes, grimacing at the aches and pains in her arm as she did so.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol. Her mouth felt very dry and her skull was throbbing. Her back ached, and the surface she was lying on was definitely not her bed.

“Shepard?”

Miranda’s voice cut through the haze in her skull. Her sensitive ears hurt, but the presence of the other woman brought back the events of the night before.

Ah yes, she wouldn’t be back in her bed.

Because she was in a C-Sec holding cell.

Yes, that was it.

The lights were too bright, they had too much to drink, and at some point during an otherwise calm evening, Miranda had seen fit to point out a known Cerberus operative trying her luck at the tables. They had been just at the right stage of drunkenness to decide that her presence was a problem that they were certainly qualified to take care of.

…of course, she and Miranda did so by getting into a very public fight, which is why they were currently stuck in a C-Sec holding cell.

She must have fallen asleep, the way the lights were shining down at her. She put a hand up, to protect her eyes, and sat upright. Her head throbbed again, so much so that she nearly doubled over again.

“Good morning, Shepard.” Miranda was sharing the bench with her, still bruised, hair mussed, and dress worse for wear. If that was how she looked with all of her perfect genes, Shepard was not looking forward to looking in the mirror.

 “You know,” begins Miranda, almost meditative. “I’ve never been on the inside of a jail cell before. It is not as unpleasant as I expected.”

It was a flyaway comment, as though making an observation about the weather or Shepard’s dress. Her voice was normal and perfectly articulate.

Shepard squinted at her. “Are you even hungover?”

“I was, but my metabolism burns through alcohol at twice the rate of a normal human body. Though, frankly, your own constitution should be a little better by now.”

Shepard snorted. “You might have forgotten to install that feature.”

“Oh?” Miranda frowned, forehead crinkling. “If you would like, I could easily correct that—”

“I’m not asking for an upgrade.”

The door to their cell slid open and the turian officer that threw them into the jail cell only a few hours before poked his head in.

“Commander Shepard?”

Shepard straightened up, smoothing her hands over her dress and hoping against hope that she wasn’t exposing anything important.

“That’s me.”

“I know.” The C-Sec officer looked supremely unimpressed. “Garrus Vakarian is here to sign you out.”

Oh, right. Garrus.

Former C-Sec Officer.

Very protective boyfriend.

One that frequently delighted in her foibles when they didn’t place her life in danger.

She was never going to live this one down.

“That’s our cue,” she said to Miranda, and stood, trying to ignore the sense that the floor might slip out from underneath her feet.

“Garrus Vakarian is only here for the commander—”

“He can vouch for her,” said Shepard testily, stalking past him. “I’ll vouch for her as soon as you give me access to an Omnitool.”

\--

They stepped out into the waiting area, the officer close behind them. Garrus was standing by the counter, going over a datapad—she would bet her hamster that it was the incident report.

“Good morning, Commander. Miranda.” said Garrus, looking up at her. His expression indicated nothing but cool professionalism. If you didn’t know him very well. From Shepard’s point of view, he looked torn between presenting a more-turian-than-turian front and collapsing into hysterical laughter, if his tightly closed mandibles were any indication.

“Good morning, Garrus,” Shepard rubbed her forehead, feeling her headache worsen. “Thank you for coming to pick us up.”

“It wasn’t a problem. Although I have to say, the quality of C-Sec reports seem to have gone down quite a bit since I left. I might need your help to make sense of it…”

There it was. Shepard internally groaned.

“They already questioned us quite thoroughly, Garrus,” said Miranda. She sounded far too amused.

“It’s just a couple of questions. Now, Shepard, I understand that your thought of subduing the suspect involved body slamming them over a roulette table, thereby disrupting the game in progress?”

“It was efficiently done and no bystanders were immediately harmed.”

“Tell that to anyone who had money in the game.”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “I am not in the mood to deal with this. I need food first. Or coffee.”

“We’ll get breakfast,” said Garrus, his voice extremely, suspiciously mild. “Just as soon as I sign these forms. Ran into a couple of my old buddies when I got here. Did you realize that the patron you picked a fight with might actually be a Cerberus sponsor?”

“ _Is_ a Cerberus sponsor,” corrected Miranda. “Her name has been in our databases for years.”

Garrus’s mandibles flickered. “Far be it from me to argue with your expertise. I’m more interested in the part that left half the casino trashed.”

Shepard sighed. “I’ll pay the damages.”

His eyebrow plates shifted upwards. “Without even looking?”

“We can probably afford it.”

He shrugged. “Not unlikely.”

He passed the report to her. She tapped a few buttons on the screen, watching the credits transfer, and hoped Admiral Hackett wouldn’t be too annoyed.

“You should read some of the witness statements on there, too,” said Garrus. “Very flattering. Especially about your dress. The krogan were especially eloquent.”

“No thank you.” She handed the report back to Garrus, who turned back to the front desk.

Miranda tapped Shepard’s shoulder. “I should be going. I need to get ready for my next mission and this dress would not be suitable.”

Shepard turned to her. “You sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast? You can get whatever you want—Garrus is buying.”

Miranda laughed softly. “No. I’m sure the two of you have plenty to talk about without me there.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you for the night, Shepard. Nothing’s ever boring when you’re around.”

Shepard nodded. “Likewise, Miranda. We should do this again. Except…without ending up in jail.”

One of Miranda’s eyebrows went up. “Not ending up in jail because we did nothing wrong…or because we don’t get caught?”

Shepard leaned in close, so that no one else would overhear. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Miranda’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Oh, Shepard. You never change.”

She stepped forward and briefly enveloped Shepard in a light hug.

“Shepard? Miranda?” They turned to face Garrus. “We’re done here.”

“Good,” said Shepard. She turned and with as much dignity as possible, walked out of the office.

“Then I shall take my leave.” Miranda nodded at both of them in turn before departing. Somehow, despite the dress and her gait, she vanished easily into the Citadel crowd.

Shepard turned and started to walk in the opposite direction, to a café she knew for a fact sold excellent croissants. Garrus fell into step beside her. He was very pointedly not saying anything.

“Just say it.”

“Didn’t you _just_ have to do this for Grunt?”

“Your point?”

“Wouldn’t this count as setting a bad example?”

“I’m Commander Shepard, I am a Spectre and last night a reliable informant identified a known Cerberus operative twenty feet away from me. I was fully within my rights to take her in for questioning.”

“Even drunk out of your mind?”

“…Yes?”

“In that dress?”

“... _yes_.”

“With a former Cerberus operative?”

“She’s been doing good work for our side.”

Garrus shook his head. “Commander Shepard. Dedicated to universal peace, at the expense of personal pride and dignity.”

“I’m a Spectre.”

“…You know that’s not the answer to everything, right?”

“Shut up. Just, shut up.”

 


End file.
